


Arrragghuuhw: A Love Story

by Siria



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 00:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16482542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: It's Halloween. Ryan gets his Han Solo on.





	Arrragghuuhw: A Love Story

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to trinityofone for betaing!

When you were in Ryan's line of work, it was Halloween pretty much year round. Things went bump in the night in April and the undead walked in June. The only real seasonal difference was how easy it was to get your hands on some candy corn for snacking during a seance. That made Halloween itself maybe a little less of a big deal than it had once been, but that didn't mean that Ryan was going to turn his nose up at an invitation to a costume party—especially not when it was held in an mansion in frickin' Bel-Air.

Ryan didn't actually know his hostess that well; one of the newest intake of BuzzFeed interns, she'd only been working in the office a couple of weeks. If you twisted his arm, all Ryan would be able to tell you was that she was called Madisyn-with-a-Y, that she was blonde, and that she knew her way around an Instagram hashtag. He didn't think she'd made much more of an impression with anyone else, but when Ryan walked in, he found that all of BuzzFeed was already there and at least three drinks in. 

It looked like the price of an entire new media company was the chance to dress up and party on the dime of a Hollywood producer's only daughter. Not that Ryan could judge. He was here too, after all, and feeling pretty fucking swank because he'd just been offered a beer by an actual butler with a legit posh British accent. 

As Ryan took a swig, a group of zombies (what was the right word for a whole lot of zombies? a horde, a flock, a swarm?) congaed past to the strains of "Monster Mash." The one in the lead—who, underneath the thick grey makeup was just about recognisable as someone from Legal—raised a glass at him and slurred, "Oh my god, a _couple's_ costume, you guys are so _cute_."

"Whoa, okay," Ryan said through his teeth, smiling fixedly back at her as he raised his beer in a return salute. Jeez, it was barely nine thirty, they must really have been packing the drinks away if she was already seeing double. "Back atcha, you… adorable… brain eater."

Ryan headed further into the house in search of food. He'd skipped dinner, caught up in finishing a last batch of editing, but he was optimistic that this was the kind of party where the catering was more than just a bag of Funyuns and a can of Cheez Whiz. Madisyn-with-a-Y didn't seem like a Cheez Whiz kind of person. He was rewarded for his optimism when he reached the dining room, which was decked out in swags of black taffeta and velvet like something out of a Morticia Addams fever dream. Every square inch of the table was covered with food, all of it looking both delicious and gross. Ryan couldn't decide if he wanted to start with the eyeball tacos, the pumpkin dip, or the cheese ball shaped like an outsized rat. 

Before he could fill his plate, he bumped—literally—into Laurie from Accounts. She was dressed like Darth Vader, if Darth Vader were a lady judge. It took Ryan a second, but when he got it he cackled and high-fived her. "Ruth Vader Ginsburg! Holy shit, that's great."

"Thanks!" she said, loading up a plate with pigs in a blanket that had been shaped to look like severed fingers. "And hey, I suppose we're sort of related by marriage, right?"

Ryan looked down at his own outfit. He'd definitely blown more money on this thing than his student loan repayments were strictly happy with, but he felt like the coolest kid in seventh grade, so whatever. If he had to dress as Han Solo for the next five Halloweens to justify the cost, he was down with that. He'd just make it his Thing, even if the boots did pinch his toes a little. "I guess so! I just hope you're a better Darth-in-law than the movie version. Can you imagine how bossy he'd be? Bet the, uh, the Jedi holidays would have been a nightmare with him around."

Laurie laughed. "I'll try to be the best Darth-in-law possible! Or wait, no, I don't think your boyfriend would be super pleased to hear me say that! I guess life doesn't always imitate art, huh?"

"My… Huh?"

"And coming in a couple's costume is adorable, by the way, you two are—oh, hold on, I just saw Curly. I have to chat with him about something, be right back"

Ryan blinked after her in confusion. Maybe she thought he was someone else? Someone who had a boyfriend who was… dressed as Leia? He shrugged. More power to 'em, whoever they were.

He ate probably his own body-weight in eyeball tacos—pretty good, though never going to surpass Taco Bell in his affections, or its mystery meat in spookiness—busted some sweet moves on the dance floor to "Thriller" and a few other Halloween faves, and then wandered out back to the pool area when he felt like taking a break. He hadn't seen many of his particular subset of BuzzFeed folks yet, and what was the point of a good party if not to hang out with the people you already spent at least 40 hours a week with?

There were easily a dozen people bobbing around inside the enormous pool—most in bathing suits, but one person was dressed like a Highlander in a red wig and a kilt that floated up around his waist and another (oh great, fuck you universe, Ryan was going to dream about this for sure) in costume as Pennywise the Clown holding a balloon that floated above the water. For a moment, Ryan idly contemplated jumping in—with enough pool noodles, he could probably do a decent bit riffing on the Death Star trash compactor scene, it'd go over well on Insta, demon clowns be damned—but got distracted by someone calling his name. 

Ryan looked around and spotted a woman he knew vaguely—Carlie? Chloe?—from a couple of other BuzzFeed get-togethers. All he could really remember about her was that she was married to one of the camerawomen and was a big Dodgers fan. 

"I love your outfit!" she said. "Wow, that looks so authentic, like you could just have walked off the Falcon."

"Thanks!" Ryan said, firmly reminding himself not to call her either Carlie or Chloe because who the hell knew. Cassie? Maybe it was Cassie. He'd make a crap diplomat. "I mean, it's the most wonderful night of the year, after all. Why not go all in?" He put one hand on his hip, rested the other on the handle of the blaster strapped to his thigh, and gave her his best crooked Harrison-Ford grin. 

"Ha!" possibly Cassie— _probably_ Cassie?—said. "That's how it always goes, isn't it? Nicole spent hours squeezing herself into a Catwoman outfit for tonight and I put on a witch's hat when we were heading out the door. _You're_ all dressed up like you're aiming for a part in the reboot, and your taller half went for the minimalist approach. But that's your vibe in general, right? So it totally works." She patted him on the arm and headed back inside, leaving Ryan feeling a weird combo of flattered and confused.

Ryan thought about following her—the first bouncing beats of "Disturbia" were filtering out from the house, and he could see himself throwing some goth Rihanna-inspired shapes on the dance floor—but then felt a tap on his shoulder. 

He turned and looked up to find Shane standing behind him. Ryan grinned. "Hey, you came! And you're Chewie, that's fucking awesome."

"Rarrrgh," Shane said. He was still in the same brown chinos and BFU t-shirt he'd worn earlier that day, but he'd put a Chewbacca-print hoodie on top. He had a pair of furry Uggs on his feet—Ryan hadn't even known they came in a men's size 'squatch—and a Chewie mask pushed to the top of his head. Even though it was well past eleven and they were outside, he was wearing a pair of sunglasses. 

_What a weirdo_ , Ryan thought fondly. "We must be in sync, huh, picking out matching ghoul bros outfits like this without ever even saying it to one another? We've got our ghoul huntin' boots, we've got our complementary Halloween outfits, we're a—" Then it clicked with him. "Oh my fucking god, they thought—she said—but we're not—Han and Chewie would _never_ , oh my god, my childhood."

Shane put his head to one side and rumbled a question. 

"I mean, Han and Lando? Almost certainly. "But Han and Chewie, why would they even—this cannot be classed as a couple's costume situation. This is just a, a situational and coincidental partner-type costume situation."

"Huurh awwgggghhh raaaaaahhgh," Shane said, shrugging.

"You keep your filthy speculations to yourself!" Ryan said. 

"Aarrragghuuhw," said Shane. 

"This is the, the kind of thing that gets us a reputation, you know."

Shane whickered a Wookie laugh.

“What?" Ryan said, following Shane over to one of the several seating areas that were dotted around the garden and throwing himself down onto a chair with a relieved sigh. These boots did amazing things for his calves, but they really were at least a size too small for him. His pinky toes might never forgive him. "You're saying you're fine with various co-workers presuming we're a couple because they think that Han and Chewbacca were doing the nasty on the Kessel Run? I mean, in the grand scheme of things that's not as bad as thinking that Greedo shot first, but—"

Shane sat down next to Ryan, took off his sunglasses, and levelled a solemn and disappointed gaze at him. "If I might revert to Galactic Standard for a moment, in the interest of efficiency."

"You are," Ryan said, impressed, " _such_ a nerd."

"I contain multitudes," Shane said calmly, then steepled his fingers together. "Ryan, my good fellow, have you considered the possibility that in fact it is the _reverse_ that is happening here?"

Ryan blinked at him. "No, mostly because I don't know what non-reverse you're talking about."

Shane sighed. "That whoever you encountered made comments about Han and Chewie, you know…" He made a hand gesture that was absolutely incomprehensible, and Ryan had grown up in the age of readily-available internet porn. "…. Jabbaing the Hutt—"

"No," Ryan breathed. Oh god, now he was thinking of Jabba having sex. The _slime_. "No."

"Because they in fact think that _we_ are doing it outside of any Star Wars-related contexts?”

"But we're not!" Ryan protested. 

"Correct," Shane said. 

"But they think we are?"

"Also correct."

Ryan considered that a moment. That was one hell of a vibe they must be laying down. "And that's enough to make them consider the possibility of Han Solo getting it on with a Wookie?"

"Not to be speciesist or anything," Shane said absently, "but the logistics of it are unnerving. It's not that I don't think Chewbacca would be anything other than a most gentle and considerate lover, but what happens if you get come in his stomach hair and then it dries? Ow."

"I have no idea what to do with any of this," Ryan said. "My brain hurts. My feet hurt. My co-workers think I should be fuckin' a Wookie. 2018 is a trip."

"No," Shane said. "That's…"

Something in his tone made Ryan's head swivel round. "That's _what_?"

"Nothing," Shane said, and oh, that was—that was not an emotion often associated with Shane Madej, but that was _embarrassment_. Ryan could see it even. His ears were turning pink, like they had on that one road trip when Devon had had epic cramps—Shane had bought several bags of Hershey's Miniatures, carefully picked out all the Krackel bars just for her, and she'd burst into tears all over him.

"Counterpoint: something," Ryan said. 

"Forget it," Shane said. 

"Legit question," Ryan responded. "Do you think that has ever, in the history of ever, worked with anyone, let alone me? That's _what_ , Shane?"

"Oh, hey, look over there," Shane said brightly. "Is that the ghost of Katharine Hepburn I see over yonder? Let's go say hi to the old gal, she'll tell us to fuck off with some Old Hollywood panache."

"Shane," Ryan said. 

"Not…" Shane closed his eyes and visibly swallowed. "Look, you're not getting it. They don't think anything about you and a fictional character. They think something about you and _me_. Don't you ever…"

Ryan had a sudden flashback to being in elementary school and playing a game of Hot or Cold. It felt like a little voice in his ear was shouting _Warmer! Warmer_! Ryan decided to listen to it. "And it… matters to you, that they're thinking this about you and me?"

Shane cleared his throat, opened his eyes, and shifted so that he was facing towards Ryan. His hands were braced against his knees, and it would be a fairly normal Shane pose, except for how Shane was so clearly steeling himself to do something. His mouth opened, closed, opened again; a tremor went through his body. It was, Ryan thought, weirdly like watching a cat getting ready to bring up a hairball. 

"Yes," Shane said eventually. 

Ryan waited. Nothing more was forthcoming. "… And?"

"You asked me a question, you got an answer," Shane said. 

"Fuck you, Wookies aren't stoics." Ryan folded his arms. 

"It's just a, a thing," Shane said. "It doesn't have to be a big deal, so can you just… not."

"If I wanted riddles," Ryan said firmly, "I'd just fuck Yoda."

"What? What?" Shane yelped, then let out a full-on snort of laughter and clapped a hand over his mouth, wheezing. "Oh, dude, no, that's… oh god, that's the weirdest kind of size kink thing I've ever heard."

"Lucky for you," Ryan said, pointing a finger at him, "I do not want to fuck Yoda. Spill!"

"Oh my god, fine, Jesus," Shane said. He spread his hands wide. "Okay. I like you. A lot. I mean, I always have, but the past few months it's been a different kind of liking. I thought it would go away, but it didn't, and I guess… Well, anyway, the me liking you. That's a thing. I'd like to be able to say that publicly. So do you, Ryan Steven Bergara, want to go with me to a place that serves food and consume that food in a romantic context?"

"Are you serious?"

"As serious as losing a hand to your own long-lost father's lightsaber."

"Well fuck." Ryan blinked at him. He could feel his brain doing that hamster in a wheel thing, the way it sometimes got when he was standing at the top of a staircase looking down at a dark cellar that might contain like, the hordes of hell, or maybe just some rambunctious mice. Either way, he was going to have to feel the fear and do it anyway. "That is pretty serious."

"Pretty much."

Ryan stared at Shane. 

Shane stared at Ryan. 

"Um." Ryan risked a quick look around. The party was still going strong—Cleopatra seemed to be dunking Pennywise in the pool; you go, Cleo—but no one seemed to be paying any attention to them. Still. It never hurt to go with some plausible deniability. "You get that like… I mean, Han Solo is my boy, you know that, but Han is not… smooth. He's sort of a dork, just a dork with a cool ship and a blaster. And I don't have a cool ship, and this blaster doesn't even make the pew pew noises. I don't look like a young Harrison Ford, either. So I'm not quite sure why this is… a thing."

Shane stared at him some more, and then said, "Can we just—okay, you know what, fuck this metaphor thing." He stood up, ripped the Chewbacca mask from his head and sent it skimming off into the bushes like an alien frisbee. He unzipped the hoodie and struggled out of it with jerky, urgent motions before letting it fall to the ground; hopped on one foot and then the other as he pulled off the furry boots and threw them underhand as far as he could. There was a splash, and then a thunk and a splash. 

"Hey, watch it!" said Pennywise. 

"Okay," Shane said, turning back to Ryan. There was an odd glint in his eye. "Okay! Here I am, one human boy standing in front of another human boy and telling him that I, Shane Madej, who is not a Wookie, thinks he's pretty keen, and, and _funny_ and smart and kind, but just apparently oblivious to things that are pretty self-evident to everyone else."

"Whoa," Ryan said softly. 

"To wit!" Shane said, holding up a finger. "Ghosts don't exist! I fucking like you, dude! Please date me."

Ryan stood too. "Okay, first, I don't want you to read anything into me not throwing my boots into the pool, because these things are actually a bitch to get off and they cost me a lot of money so I'm going to be wearing them for Halloween until 2025."

"Okay," Shane said. His hands flexed, curled into loose fists at his side. 

"Okay," Ryan said. He stared at Shane's face, seeing it—not with fresh eyes, not exactly, but like one of those magic eye pictures, where if you looked long enough you realised that it was one thing but it had also been something else all along. What would it be like, to kiss someone with stubble?

"… and second?" Shane prompted, when it seemed like Ryan wasn't going to say anything. 

"Shit, I don't know, I forgot," Ryan blurted out. 

"What?" Shane said, squinting. 

"I don't know!" Ryan said, throwing his hands up. "You're standing there in your socks and it's making me wonder what it would be like to kiss you and it's all sort of distracting, dude."

"Right," Shane said slowly. "So that's a…"

" _Yes_ ," Ryan said. "Dude, yes. I mean, I didn't know, and then I had to catch up a bit…" He mimed walking with two of his fingers. "But now, like, twelve parsecs: crossed."

"Okay," Shane said. He looked a little dazed. "Right, well, good talk."

Ryan sighed. "Really? This is what you're going with?"

"Don't know," Shane said affably. "I might be in shock. Can't feel my elbows."

Luckily, it turned out you didn't need to have a full range of sensation in your elbows to be able to drive with someone down to the Apple Pan, or to purchase them a slice of pie in a romantic context, or even to kiss them: pressed up against the car door with Shane's hands in Ryan's hair and Ryan making noises which, let's be honest here, were not the most dignified in the world. 

Four people dressed as the lady Ghostbusters drove past, windows down and wolf-whistling. "You go, Han Solo, you magnificent bastard!" one of them yelled. 

"Hear that?" Shane said, pulling back just enough that Ryan could see that grin on his face. " _Someone_ doesn't think Han is a dork."

"Yeah," Ryan said, smiling back, pulling Shane in close, closer. "I'm starting to get that."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess, Katharine Hepburn.


End file.
